Unlived
by anyadoll
Summary: They've drawn their lines in the sand, set their boundaries. This is a terrible idea. But he's the only person she trusts. The only friend she really has. Besides, he offered.
1. The Ghost

**A/N:** I'm not sure if Jane is actually Taylor—I hope she is but I hope she isn't…sounds confusing, right? For the purpose of this story, she is Taylor Shaw and this would be set a few months after what we've already seen. This is super sappy, and will never happen on the show, but a girl can dream. Adele, "Hello," lyrics.

 **Unlived**

XOX

 _Hello, can you hear me_

 _I'm in California dreaming_

 _About who we used to be_

 _When we were younger_

 _And free_

 _I've forgotten how it felt_

 _Before the world fell at our feet—_

 _There's such a difference between us_

 _And a million miles…_

XOX

"How's the apartment search going?" Weller turned to ask her as they waited in line for coffee. Jane shot him an irritated glare, a pen in her mouth and the morning paper in her hands. Circles and X's in red ink featured prominently across the page.

She grabbed the pen from her mouth, tapping it on the paper in frustration. "How do you think? Everything is either too expensive or so cheap I can only assume something bad happened inside."

Kurt smiled, shaking his head. "Or it's a closet."

"You're not helping," She replied dryly.

"You won't let me!" He threw back. "Jane, why don't you just stay with me? Sarah found a place a couple blocks away, so she and Sawyer are out of my apartment. I have the room. We can split the rent and carpool to work. No more safe houses, no agents watching your door," He rattled off. "Fact is, we already spend seventy percent of our day together."

Jane sighed, unsure how to answer him. Their relationship already toed the line of more than professional—living together would almost certainly tip the scales. The lingering looks they shared and the way he treated her didn't go unnoticed by Reade, Zapata, or Mayfair. Reade took a particular derisive enjoyment in calling Jane and Kurt's weekly sessions with Dr. Borden "Couples Therapy."

If the team found out they were living together, well, she could only imagine the scrutiny.

She chewed on the end of the pen cap. "I'll think about it."

"Well, the offer stands. You're always welcome," He added softly.

It wasn't until an impatient customer behind them cleared his throat in agitation that they realized they were next at the counter.

"Uh, two black coffees, two cream and sugar, and a blueberry muffin, to go, please," Kurt told the barista, handing her a twenty, leaving two dollars in the tip jar when he received his change.

"You didn't have to get me a muffin," Jane chided him, smiling. She'd been doing what Dr. Borden told her to—making choices. Every day, she had tried a different type of baked good from the coffee shop. Turned out blueberry muffins were her favorite.

"Trust me, if you're looking for an apartment in New York, you'll need every penny," Kurt replied with an air of superiority. They'd been having this battle for weeks. This was just another one of his stunts, proving he was chivalrous while simultaneously pushing the issue of giving up her ridiculous search and staying with him. She rolled her eyes in response.

"I told you I'd think about it," She reminded him, a warning in her tone.

Kurt had to catch himself sometimes. Trying to resurrect the version of his childhood-friend-Taylor wasn't going to help the adult-Taylor. Separating the two was difficult. He tried to back off as much as he could, but he wanted so desperately for her to need him, as she had when they were children. This kind of logic usually left him feeling like a heel. She was fully capable of helping herself—as if that hadn't been proven more than once.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pressure you. How about I help you look then, that will at least put me at ease?" He bargained.

Jane mulled the offer over. "Fine—but you can't be so… _you_ …about it."

Kurt narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms defensively. "What does that even mean?"

"You know…you can be...I don't know, I can't explain it!" Jane shrugged, the words failing her as the barista placed the tray of coffees on the counter. "Look, coffee's ready."

"We'll finish this discussion later," he stated firmly, mumbling about her opinion of him as he went to grab the tray.

"Have a good day Kurt," their usual barista said sweetly, looking over at Jane and shrinking back a bit.

"You too Stacy, see you tomorrow," He replied with a nod.

Jane bit her lip to keep the grin from overtaking her face. "I think someone has a crush on you," she teased as they left the establishment.

Kurt handed her the muffin, pausing when he pulled her coffee out of the tray. It was his turn to laugh. "No, I think someone has a crush on _you_."

"What?"

In black marker, above her name, was a phone number. A '-S' next to it.

"I don't…but I don't…I…" Jane stuttered. One thing she'd learned about herself—if her attraction to Weller and the odd pull she had to the Bearded-Man she assumed was her friend before all of _this_ —was that she certainly preferred men.

"You're a very attractive woman, and this is New York. Frankly, you could do worse," Kurt snickered as she jabbed him in the shoulder. "Or, you know, could be the way you dress."

Jane looked at him darkly. "What is wrong with the way I dress?"

"Nothing," He said, eyeing what he'd come to think of as her fairly typical ensemble—white tank top, black jeans, black boots, and a red sweat jacket. "But with the tattoos and the choppy haircut you kind of look like a singer in an indie band who reads slam poetry on the weekends and probably majored in philosophy in college," He mocked profusely.

She refused to talk to him for the rest of the drive.

XOX

Two days later they were walking through one of the apartments she'd circled.

"It's not very big," Kurt commented, warily investigating a curious looking hole in the kitchen wall. "Neighborhoods not great either."

"I don't even own anything to put in it. I don't think space matters to me," she shot back. "And really, the neighborhoods not great? From what we've gathered I'm a Navy Seal," Jane added tartly, letting Kurt finish the rest of her train of thought.

"My closet is actually bigger than this apartment. And you will care when you actually have stuff to fill it with."

Jane huffed, conceding. _Onto the next one_.

But the next one was too big, and too far out of her price range despite its better neighborhood.

"It's perfect for a growing family," The overly peppy realtor suggested with a wink, reading their situation incredibly wrong.

Jane flushed, all but fleeing the building and suddenly very concerned about her appearance.

Kurt caught up to her in the hallway, a spark in his eye. "Should take it as a compliment, she didn't think you were batting for the other team."

"That's your takeaway?" She said sarcastically, looking at her list. "Only six more to view today."

Her enthusiasm about finding her own place had waned considerably. Even though she was sick of the safe house she was feeling spiteful, and her pride wasn't allowing her to take up Kurt's offer yet.

Three hours later, she'd had enough. The fourth place they looked at still had remnants of a chalk outline and what she could only assume was blood spatter on the walls, the fifth had a tub next to a suspicious looking Murphy bed, and the sixth was only a bedroom for rent.

She was caving quickly, viciously chewing on her nails to stop the words spilling forth. Jane really didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being right. Of needing him.

He looked over at Jane out of the corner of his eye. "Get your stuff together, I'll pick you up tomorrow. Room should be set up by then," Kurt answered her unspoken request.

"Thank you."

XOX

She'd already been to his apartment several times over the course of the last few months. The difference being she hadn't seen the spare bedroom since Sarah and Sawyer had initially occupied it. That, and the thought of living with him had never crossed her mind.

Jane followed him through his place with a mounting trepidation.

"Is this really a good idea?" She said aloud, neither willing to voice the elephant in the room. They were close. Maybe too close, if the awkward moment they'd shared in the safe house not four months ago was any indication of where things could lead if left unchecked.

They'd set their boundaries, drawn the proverbial lines in the sand. Got coffee together, eased into dinners with his family, sometimes went for drinks with the team—kept things light. They tried not to socialize with each other outside of work without the company of others unless it was job related. Both had managed to keep a respectful distance, slowly evolving into the friends they'd been as children. And it worked, most of the time. But that final temptation still lingered, and this was pushing it.

Kurt sighed, putting his hand on her shoulder encouragingly. "If it turns out not to be, we'll cross that bridge."

Jane nodded her agreement as they reached the threshold of the room.

"If you want, we can go shopping and you can pick out whatever you'd like for the room. Sarah kinda decorated the place for me, trade-off, I suppose, for letting her stay. It's yours now," He offered, eyeing her meager duffle bag.

"I'm fine, really. I don't need anything. Whatever you have is fine."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at her dismissive response. "You're not putting me out, you know."

She wasn't sure how to explain it to him. The crippling fear of getting too attached. The inexplicable knowledge that it all could be taken from her at anytime, like her memories, like the last thirty years of her life.

"What is it, Jane?" Kurt asked, concern prevalent in his voice. "Look, if it's too much—"

Jane swallowed thickly, squeezing the strap of the duffle bag.

 _It's yours now._

"No, no it's not that. All I have is a mashed up collection of half formed memories. There's nothing…I don't have anything that's _mine_ ," she admitted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other nervously.

"Well, you do now," He said softly, leaving her feeling slightly breathless. She wasn't oblivious, double entendres were their bread and better.

This was a terrible idea.

"Guess I just got used to it, after awhile. People dictating everything for me. "

Kurt gave her a rueful look. She'd struggled to fit in, to form relationships, to be seen as something other than The Girl With The Tattoos. If he could do this, give her some semblance of a normal life, then he would have at least taken a step in the right direction. "Don't be afraid to ask for anything, Jane. I mean it, this place is yours, too."

He flipped the light switch on, guiding her into the room that now belonged to her.

The room was simple, practical. A dark mahogany bed sat in the center with crisp white sheets and a puffy, navy blue striped down comforter. There was a matching dresser across from the bed with a few picture frames scattered along the top. A reading lamp along with a stack of books sat on the bedside table. Thick red drapes hung heavily above the window. The room itself was painted a dreary kind of gray.

All of New York seemed to be shades of black and gray, like the tattoos on her skin. She was sick of gray.

"Okay, I…I kind of want to paint. And the curtains…I don't like red."

He laughed at her pinched expression, letting his hand fall from the small of her back. "We'll start tomorrow. Night, Jane."

Jane watched him retreat down the hallway, softly closing his door behind him.

"Good night."

XOX

The sun beamed cruelly through the window, adding its own form of torture to her sleepless night. Dreams she couldn't remember kept her awake. Dreams that slid through her fingers like tendrils of smoke—just gone. It was all leading her to something. Whatever that something was, she feared its arrival.

She glanced at the alarm clock with bleary eyes, its digital red numbers reflecting nine-fifteen. Jane groaned, before realizing it was Sunday.

The smell of pancakes assailed her nose.

" _Can you make them into shapes?"_

The memory surfaced, muddled but coherent.

 _A boy standing on a chair with his back to her at the stove._

Jane blinked, feeling tears well in her tired eyes. Memories like this were good, but painful. She'd only recently retained a few memories of her childhood, mostly of her abduction.

She was Taylor. That was proven beyond a shadow of doubt now. But a name didn't make the person, and she barely remembered Taylor Shaw. She'd been her for such a small window of time that it was hard for her to accept this abstract identity. She'd decided to continue to go by Jane for now, a decision she knew hurt Kurt more than he let on.

One day she'd be okay with it. Just…not yet. Not with so many unknowns hanging over her head.

Deciding to embrace the day, she stretched, throwing a thin sweatshirt on over her tank top and the shorts she'd grown accustom to wearing to bed. She heard heavy footsteps come to a halt outside her room, followed by a hesitant knock.

"Jane, you awake," Kurt asked, voice no louder than a stage whisper.

"Yeah, I'm up. I'll be out in a second," she called back. She ran a brush through her unruly hair—not that it did much. She mentally cursed whoever chopped her hair off. It had been long in her memory of the outside shooting course, made her appearance look softer and not so jarring. Jane supposed the intent was to make her as unrecognizable as possible, as if the tattoos didn't already do that.

Jane emerged from her room, following the smell of pancakes. She stopped short though, watching him work in the kitchen. The little boy at the stove forcing itself to the forefront of her mind. Did she tell him what she saw?

"Have a seat," Kurt said, flipping one of the pancakes. She shook the memory away, pulling a chair out at the table.

"Can you actually cook?" Jane wondered aloud.

Now Kurt turned to face her, his expression daring her to mock him. "Yes, I can, thank you very much. Sarah _thinks_ she can cook, there's a difference. I'm honestly not quite sure how she's kept Sawyer alive this long," Kurt lamented.

"The dinner she made…it wasn't _that_ bad," Jane said in Sarah's defense.

Kurt snorted. "You're a terrible liar."

"I wouldn't know if I was or not, so I'll take your word for it," she said, picking at an imaginary spot on her sweatshirt.

"Well, then you learned something about yourself today," he observed, trying to make light of her comment. "Alright, here we go," Kurt placed the platter of pancakes on the table before grabbing plates and silverware.

The smile slid off her face as she stared at what he'd offered.

" _Can you make them into shapes?"_

 _The boy at the stove, standing on a chair._

" _I want heart shaped pancakes, with chocolate chips!"_

The excited voice of the child her reverberated inside her head, a foreign sound.

They were lopsided, formed by hand and definitely misshapen—but they were hearts. With chocolate chips.

"Jane…hey, I promise they are edible," Kurt joked, nodding at the pancakes as he took the seat across from her. She wouldn't look at him, almost as if she hadn't heard him. "Jane, what's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing…it's nothing. Just um…they're hearts, sort of."

Kurt cocked his head to the side. "No they're n—" She shifted her plate so he could see the design. "They are. Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it, just kinda…happened, I guess. I used to make them like that for Sarah and—"

"Me. Yeah, I remember," she smiled almost nostalgically, pushing the pancake around with her fork. "You had to stand on a chair, to reach the stove."

She said it so casually; an ease he'd never heard her speak with before. He didn't know how to react. Even knowing she was his long lost friend, it still shook him when she recalled a fragment of that life.

She went about pouring syrup on the poorly crafted pancakes as if nothing had happened. Kurt still gaped slightly, watching as she bit into the fluffy, sugary mess.

"These are delicious." Her muffled compliment brought him back to reality.

"Uh, thanks. Always liked cooking, never had anyone to cook for."

"Well I've lived on takeout for the last five months. I'm not even sure if I know how to cook," she responded, feeling the sugar buzz rapidly kicking in.

"I could teach you, it's not hard," He offered, sipping his coffee.

Jane shook her head, scrunching up her nose. "I think I'll leave that particular skill to you. Besides, now you have someone to cook for."

They held each other's gaze a beat longer than what was probably acceptable. Kurt broke the connection first, clearing his throat.

"So, what color were you thinking about painting your room?"

Evasive. Safe. One-step forward, two back.

"I haven't really decided, but…I kind of like green. A dark green," Jane added, skillfully stabbing a loose chocolate chip with the prongs of her fork.

"Green is nice," Kurt agreed, mentally berating himself. He sounded like a teenager with a crush, stupidly repeating everything she said. It didn't help that even thinking of the color green conjured images of her vulnerable, tortured eyes. "We'll pick some stuff up once breakfast is done, if that's alright with you."

Jane took another bite, nodding. "Sounds good to me."

XOX

Unfortunately, any intentions of painting her room were pushed to the back burner as Monday came with surprises of its own.

"We'll need to increase your security, move you to another location, Jane," Mayfair said authoritatively as the team was briefed on the incident that occurred an hour after they'd all arrived at headquarters. Another compromised safe house. An agent from Jane's detail injured this time. "We don't need another Bearded-Man situation on our hands."

Jane glanced over at Kurt nervously, before her gaze hit the floor. Mayfair watched the interaction with interest. "Patterson, see what else you can dig up on this," their boss delegated, moving to Kurt and quietly muttering, "You two, my office," under her breath.

Once inside, she stared them down equally. "Something you need to tell me?"

"We actually were going to, then Patterson…" Kurt began, letting the sentence fall away as he ran a hand through his hair. Jane stood behind him, trying her best to blend into the background. "She's staying in my spare room."

"Jane can you give us a minute," Mayfair said evenly, making it sound more like a command than a question, her eyes never leaving Weller's.

Jane nodded, gladly departing the tension circulating the small office.

Once the door clicked shut, Mayfair was at his throat. "She's living with you now? Are you sure this is a good idea Weller? You're more than just close to this, you're _deeply_ invested in this girl!" She reasoned, repeating words from the past ad nauseum. "I get it, you're trying to reclaim a part of your childhood, of the life you had with her then, but you're both adults now. She's never going to be that person, and playing house with her is tempting fate! I've already had to question your objectivity—"

"Then take me off her case!" He argued stubbornly. "Because I clearly can't be objective. I never could. I tried, and look how that turned out. We've had two of her safe houses compromised in five months! Tell me, when has that ever happened before? The only reason she wasn't there when this break-in occurred was because she'd moved into my guest room!"

Mayfair heaved a disgruntled sigh, considering his words.

Kurt looked out the office door, his eyes finding Jane immediately, voice softening as he turned back to Mayfair.

"She's living with an agent now, one that she trusts. That's security in itself. And I'll do anything to keep her safe. That's the whole point of this, right? To keep her safe?"

Mayfair huffed, defeated. "Fine. Tread very carefully, Agent Weller. I'd appreciate her continuing to be cooperative. If _this_ tarnishes her trust in us in any way, it's your career on the line. And I'd strongly advise against making this arrangement public."

Kurt nodded. "Thank you."

His hand was on the doorknob when Mayfair spoke again.

"She's an asset, not an FBI agent, you know. The rules don't necessarily…apply," She paused, choosing her next words carefully. "Tell me, when you need to step down."

He looked back at her with a wry smile. "I will."

XOX

Kurt was more vigilant now that the second safe house had been comprised. He wouldn't let Jane so much as go downstairs to collect the mail by herself without him by her side. His overprotectiveness was endearing but incredibly stifling.

A week after the break-in, with no leads on DNA, prints left behind at the scene, or good camera angles, she finally snapped.

Having been invited to a game night with Patterson and her boyfriend, Jane told Kurt she was taking a taxi early since Patterson had asked her to pick up some obscure sounding beer from a small market a few blocks away from his— _their_ —place.

To her credit, Patterson had figured out their living situation almost immediately. When they asked her how she knew, her cheeky response had been that they smelled the same. She was right, of course. Jane was now using Kurt's detergent after all. Luckily, Patterson vowed not to disclose this information to Reade or Zapata, scoffing good-naturedly, " _I can't help that I'm a better detective than the two of them. If they can't figure it out, they don't deserve to be told."_

"Jane, you're not going anywhere alone," Kurt said tersely, no room for argument in his tone. He barely looked up from the case file he studied.

Jane shook her head, fists clenching in exasperation. "You're my roommate, not my security detail. You don't get to dictate what I do or where I go, just because we live together! I'm not under house arrest, I'm not in witness protection, and I'm not your girlfriend!"

She startled even herself with the words that came tumbling from her mouth. Horrified and afraid to look him in the eye, Jane grabbed her jacket and walked out of the apartment before he had a chance to process.

Of course Kurt would follow after her.

Jane had at least a two minute lead as she navigated the sidewalk, brushing past people and playing her words over on repeat. _Chalk this up to something else they wouldn't talk about_ , she thought bitterly.

When a hand shot out and gripped her shoulder almost painfully, Jane turned, an apology already falling from lips. "Look, Kurt, I—"

The hit came out of nowhere.

Stars exploded in her vision, throwing off her balance as she fell to the side. The unidentified hands pulled her into the alley; her own arms locked and brutally twisted behind her back. With his free hand, the man covered her eyes while also smashing her face into the alley's brick wall.

"What do you want?" Jane seethed, black spots popping in front of her.

"What do you know?" The male voice whispered next to her ear. Her cheek scraped across the rough brick, tearing skin. "About me."

The voice was both foreign and familiar. Her dizzy mind searched, but came up empty. "N-nothing…I don't…" Jane answered faintly, the black spots burning into white as they licked the edge of her vision.

"Hey!"

She heard Kurt's shout cut through the fog, heard him running. She wanted to yell back but her mouth wouldn't work and the words jumbled. The man pulled her head back before violently slamming it into the wall once more—this time creating the desired effect.

Everything went black.

Jane dropped to the ground. The hands that cradled her head now were known, safe, comforting. His muffled voice calmed her.

The man knew Kurt would stop for her, allowing his escape. It was the last thing she grasped with certainty before all went silent.

XOX

When she'd woken forty-five minutes later, alone in a white room, she nearly lost it. Kurt had barely stepped out to call Mayfair and update her once again when nurses and doctors rushed to her room. He'd hung up, racing after them.

"Not again!" She shrieked, trembling, as one nurse held her down and another tried to sedate her. It was like the night she crawled out of the bag all over again. Restraints and white rooms and metal tables.

"Hey! Stop!" Kurt roared, pushing through them while flashing his badge. "Back off!"

"Sir, we need—" One of the nurses started before his icy glare stopped him cold.

"I've got it. Get me her doctor," Kurt snapped, standing in front of Jane. Once they left, he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her in close. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left before you woke up."

"I sh-shouldn't have left at all," Jane whispered back, still shaking. "Y-you were right."

"Worry about that later. You're okay, that's enough for me," He replied. She could almost feel the fear and apprehension vibrating off of him.

The doctor arrived shortly after the nurses had departed. Kurt stood to greet her, and the doctor began discussing Jane's CT scans with him while Jane tuned in and out of the conversation.

"She has a pretty severe concussion. We'd like to keep her overnight for observation," the doctor—O'Reilly, or something—explained to them. Jane was already shaking her head anxiously, even though the motion shot crippling waves of pain across every nerve.

"Yeah, that won't be happening," Kurt responded sourly, his thumb drawing small circles where his hand rested between her shoulder blades unconsciously. The motion was soothing; all she wanted to do was sleep. Her eyelids were heavy, and a thick fog shrouded her mind.

"Well, if she has someone to stay with I suppose it would be fine, but she really should stay here."

"We live together, just let me know what I'm supposed to do, or look for," Kurt said, trying to mollify the doctor.

The doctor sighed, weighing her options as she checked the chart. "You're going to have to monitor your girlfriend for the next twenty-four hours at least. Try to keep her awake, check for any pupil dilation, slurred speech, seizures," She listed, pulling out a small flashlight and clicking the button. "Miss Shaw, can you follow the light for me?"

"What?" Jane questioned in confusion, her forehead wrinkling as the name penetrated the fog. Her eyes automatically followed the light…or at least, she tried.

"If anything changes, bring her back immediately," The doctor said dryly, still unconvinced.

"But…that's not my name…" Jane tried to tell her, but the doctor was already gone. And frankly, it _was_ her name. She just didn't choose to go by it.

"Can't exactly write Jane Doe on a form without raising some red flags." Kurt said, a hint of that same hurt when she'd told him she wanted to continue to go by Jane present in his voice.

He placed his hands gently on either side of her face, minding the gash on her right cheek from its brush with a brick wall. "How are you doing? Are you sure you want to leave, Jane?"

"I just…I wanna go home," She pleaded, wanting to get as far from the hospital as she could.

He nodded. "Alright. I told Mayfair you were attacked, but I couldn't really give her much more than that. Your security detail is gonna sit outside the apartment tonight, just to make sure this guy doesn't come back. Did you recognize him, Jane?"

Jane sighed. "No, he didn't let me see him. His voice…it sounded familiar. I can't place it though."

His gaze lingered on her a bit longer, studying. She realized he was trying to figure out if she was keeping anything from him…again.

"I'm not lying," Jane accused, pulling his hands away.

Kurt ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry, it was just…close, Jane. Too close."

Jane shivered in the cold, sterile room, and Kurt placed his jacket around her bare shoulders. She'd lost hers in the alley—one of her favorites, too.

When he pinched her arm out of nowhere, she shot him a nasty look. "What the hell was that for?"

"You can't sleep, Jane," he answered her apologetically.

This was going to be a long night.

XOX

Concussions were a bitch.

And right now, so was she. Every time her eyelids so much as fluttered, he would pinch her gently, or shake her shoulder, or poke her side. She knew it was for the best, but the violent throbbing in her head was making her feel absolutely murderous.

She was past the point of mental exhaustion—tired rage was quickly rounding the bend. When he reached out again to shake her, Jane grabbed his wrist, twisting it. "Touch me again, and I will break your hand!"

Kurt tensed, startled by her volatile words. He had to stop himself from reflexively disarming her. She saw the defensive maneuver pass across his face, and she released him quickly, gasping at her reaction.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry," Jane breathed, moving away from him. The movie he'd put in earlier a distant hum in the background. They'd decided to catch her up on popular movies, but the films only served as monotonous white noise. "I didn't mean it."

Kurt massaged his wrist. "It's okay, no harm done. I know this is hard; I've had my fair share of concussions. Occupational hazard, I suppose," he tried to placate her, failing terribly if the look on her face was any indication of how awful she felt now. "Why don't we do something else."

"Like what?" Jane asked cautiously.

Kurt rose from the sofa, heading into the kitchen. He held up a paint can and two rollers.

Jane raised an eyebrow, tilting her head questioningly. "Am I even supposed to be doing strenuous activities at the moment?"

Kurt shrugged. "No, not really. But it's three in the morning, and if I have to be up all night, I'm at least going to be productive. You can watch. Or you can sit on the floor and paint the bottom half of the wall."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine."

It took an hour to move some of the bulky pieces of furniture into the hallway, and they ended up pushing the bed to the middle of the room. Kurt took the red curtains down and taped the ceiling, while Jane taped along the molding at the bottom of the wall.

It was five by the time they finally broke open the paint can.

The color was a beautiful, deep forest green. The minute the paint hit the wall, Jane knew she loved it. It was a refreshing change of pace from her world of gray. It conjured up images of trees and grass and the outside, a distant place in a faraway time when she played with the boy version of the man standing next to her.

The memory came as fast and hard as the one from a week ago. It was nothing more than a flash—a boy and a girl racing each other, a tall tree their finish line.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to distract her. The roller she held drifted to the right, knocking into Kurt's arm. She pulled the roller back quickly, but it had already left a giant splotch of forest green paint across his elbow.

"Really, Jane?" He queried, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"It was an accident, I swear!" She claimed, holding her hands up defensively.

"Yeah, I'm sure," He shot back, clearly unconvinced. Before she could say another word, he slowly, deliberately, smeared green paint across her shoulder.

Jane pursed her lips. "Okay, the first time was an accident. This," she said, rolling the paint down the front of the gray tee he'd changed into earlier, "is war. And I guarantee I'll win."

"What are the stakes then?" Kurt asked, raising his paint-laden roller up, as if to start a sword fight.

She shrugged, saying the first thing that came to mind. "A night out. Winner's choice."

The edge of Kurt's lip twitched.

"You're on."


	2. The Girl

**A/N:** So you all are such sweet reviewers! I didn't have a plan for this story—it was supposed to be a one shot, but it's so long I decided to break it up. I adored the scene with Jane and the girls from this episode, so I couldn't help incorporating something into my piece about it. Fair warning—it gets _super_ sappy at the end, and it's probably not even remotely believable. I'm not even sorry. This is up later than intended, but I've been busy. "Waiting Game" lyrics by Banks.

 **Unlived**

XOX

 _Baby I'm thinking it over_

 _What if the way we started_

 _Made it something cursed from the start_

 _What if it only gets colder_

 _Would you still wrap me up_

 _And tell me that you think this was smart_

 _Cuz lately I've been scared_

 _Of even thinking 'bout where we are…_

XOX

In the end, Jane was declared the victor.

It was a hard call, but Kurt was significantly covered in more paint than Jane. And if they were being frank, there was more paint on the two of them than the wall they'd intended to paint in the first place.

Apparently, even a head injury couldn't stop her quick reflexes or competitive nature.

"That was fun," Jane said wistfully. In fact, it was probably the single best new memory she'd made since she'd entered his life that fateful night.

"It was," Kurt agreed, laughing at how ridiculous they looked sitting on the tarps that littered the floor, coated in green. His hand made a sucking sound as he peeled it from the tarp where it stuck in a half-dried glob of paint. With the green substance slowly congealing, making Jane's dark hair stick out at odd angles, Kurt couldn't resist poking a bit of fun at her. "You look like The Swamp Thing."

"So do you!" Jane shot back, her cheeks flushing pink as she touched the crunchy mess her hair had become. Having researched the origin of Orion after Casey mentioned it to her before he died, Jane had delved into mythology with a curious passion, noting she probably looked comparable to Medusa, the mythological woman who had snakes for hair and petrified men with one look. Though she didn't mention this assessment to him. She didn't need any more ribbing from Kurt. Setting the roller in the pan, she glanced up at the wall. "So much for painting my room."

"You started it."

"Did not," She argued uselessly. "But since I won, I get first shower."

Kurt accepted her affirmation. "I'll try to finish this wall with what's left of the paint. We can buy more later."

Jane stood, shaking off the quick bout of dizziness and moving out of the room. She stopped, turning back to Kurt with a soft smile. "Hey Kurt," she began. He looked up from where he sat as he poured the rest of the paint into the tray. "Thank you…for this. For all of it."

He returned her smile, knowing she meant more than just the paint war, or even the apartment. "You're welcome, Jane."

XOX

Trying to wash dried paint out of her hair was certainly a trip. Didn't help that the entire right side of her head was extraordinarily tender from its encounter with an unidentified man and a brick wall. Even so much as touching the sore flesh made her feel dazed.

The same surge of dizziness hit her once more. Her stomach churned violently at the renewed throbbing in her head and the night's activities caught up to her all at once. She leaned back against the shower wall, slowly sliding down the slick tile as bright spots appeared in her vision again. Jane white-knuckled the side of the tub, trying to breathe through the waves of nausea.

Any energy she previously had was gone. Her limbs felt like jelly. She rested her uninjured cheek against the cool porcelain as the warm water poured over her in a steady stream, too weak to call for help.

XOX

Despite their paint war, three walls and a part of the fourth had one coat. Kurt glanced at his watch, having finished off what was left of the paint. Unease set in at the amount of time that had passed. He knit his forehead in concern. Even covered in paint, it shouldn't take Jane this long to shower.

Deciding he'd rather beg for her forgiveness later, Kurt walked down the short hallway, knocking lightly on the bathroom door. "Jane, you okay?"

He heard the water streaming, but received no response. "Jane," he tried again, louder this time. His agitation escalated as he placed his hand on the doorknob, twisting to find it unlocked.

But the knob was pulled inward, out of his hand. Jane stared up at him with a questioning look, one of his white towels wrapped around her dripping body. Patches of scuffed green paint still stood out along her collarbone and he could discern bits of it in her hair, particularly on the side she'd hit her head.

"Did you need something?" She asked quietly, her right hand involuntarily moving to hold the towel in place under the intensity of his gaze. It's not like she had anything to hide. Privacy was a luxury she wasn't afforded. Kurt was privy to every part of her body already—hell, the whole of the FBI was if she was being honest. The photos of her tattoos were on a digital board for all to see, and the case agents all had their own physical copies.

But this was different. Personal. Intimate.

"Kurt?"

"Sorry, didn't mean too…it's just…you've been in here awhile. I was worried," Kurt managed to stumble, feeling like an idiot. "Still have a head injury after all."

He caught the shift in her expression. She couldn't lie, he'd know.

"I…I did have a moment. Got dizzy, felt sick," Jane answered his unspoken question. She swallowed, bracing herself for some kind of scolding on how she should have called for him.

He sighed, massaging his forehead. "Are you okay now? Did you want me to take you back to the hospital?"

Jane gave a barely perceptible shake of her head. "No, I'd really like to just sleep, for a little while," she answered, a bit desperately.

"Right," He nodded. "Why don't you change, I'll call the doctor, see if you can rest for a bit."

Kurt left her to grab his phone. Jane moved out of the bathroom, tossing her unsalvageable paint splattered clothing into the trash. It wasn't like she didn't have eight other white tank tops at the ready.

Kurt was right, her wardrobe did leave something to be desired. What had he said she looked like? She couldn't recall, but he'd basically equated her 'look' to that of a poor college student. Jane would laugh if it wasn't true.

She had other, more pertinent things to dwell on though. The unidentified man, for example. He'd managed to find and get into her safe house, and then assault her just outside Kurt's apartment, which meant the man knew she was living with Kurt. That was unsettling to say the least, she thought, as she slipped on a black tank and gray shorts.

Jane left the door ajar and was toweling her hair when Kurt leaned against the doorframe, clearing his throat. "Doc says you can get some rest, but I'll have to wake you up every couple hours to check on you."

"Better than nothing," Jane shrugged. She took in the disarray that was her room, flinching a little. The smell of fresh paint egged her headache on, the tarps tossed across the floor, furniture everywhere, and bed in the middle of the room wouldn't exactly lend itself to a peaceful environment.

Kurt followed her train of thought. "Jane, why don't you take my room? Mayfair's letting the team know what happened last night. I've got work I can do from here, so we don't have to worry about going in to the office."

"Thank you," Jane accepted his gesture, too tired to argue. "You should probably shower, just in case the team has to video call you," She reminded him.

"Good point," he laughed lightly. "Get some rest, I'll check on you in a bit."

Kurt headed into the bathroom. Jane took a deep breath, waiting until she heard the water turn on, hesitatingly pushing his bedroom door open. It seemed like a violation of sorts, sleeping in his bed. But once again, he'd offered, and she hadn't turned him down.

His bedroom was a direct reflection of the man who occupied it. Similar dark furniture weighed down the room, much like what was in hers. Bookcases were prevalent, filled to the brim with a variety of everything imaginable. Jane noticed with a heavy heart that a lot of the titles were biographies and interviews of cases involving missing children.

While there was no book on her, there was a set of files placed neatly in the corner of his desk with her real name stamped on the header. A half dead plant hovered pathetically over them. Given the layer of dust on the manila folders, they hadn't been touched in months.

 _Probably not since they'd identified her._

Curiosity got the better of her, and she picked the first file up, opening it. Notes hastily written in Kurt's hand, some dating back fifteen years, side by side with pictures and renderings of what she'd look like at different points in her life filled the folder. It was at once terribly sad that he'd spent so much of his life chasing the ghost of the girl next door, but also incredibly illuminating. Her disappearance had defined him, dictated the entire course of his life.

Jane swallowed hard, placing the file back where she'd found it. Maybe he'd open up to her about it one day. Talking to him about her disappearance was like pulling teeth. She understood he didn't want to relive it, but she had her own questions.

She covered her mouth to stifle her yawn, eyeing the bed uncertainly before shrugging off her reluctance. She was exhausted, and it seemed so inviting. Jane pulled back the covers before sliding under their comforting weight. Sleep came quickly; Kurt's scent surrounded her, calming her busy mind.

XOX

Kurt rubbed his eyes tiredly, glancing at his watch. It was barely noon. He'd poured over a case they were working not related to Jane, relayed information to the team, and was now digging up whatever he could on Jane's attacker. Another ghost, like the Bearded-Man. This was getting ridiculous.

More questions, fewer answers.

Dropping his pen and the meager, fuzzy CCTV photos of the mystery man, Kurt stood, tempted to make another cup of coffee before abandoning that idea. He would check on Jane first, then make something to eat. That would clear his head.

Kurt pushed his bedroom door open carefully, taking in the lithe form of his sleeping friend. It was a jarring sight. Admittedly, it had been a long time since a woman had been his bed. Especially one that he cared for deeply.

He moved around to the side of the bed closer to the window, kneeling down to face her. He grasped her shoulder, shaking her lightly. "Jane, hey, Jane, gotta wake up," he whispered softly.

Her brow furrowed, a stubborn groan coming from deep in her throat.

"C'mon Jane, I've just gotta see your eyes," he tried again.

She shifted closer to his voice, half opening her eyes in irritation. "I'm sleeping," she mumbled to him, annoyed at the disturbance.

"I know, Jane, I know," he said, pushing back a lock of her hair. "Had to make sure you didn't fall into a coma. I'll leave you alone."

Her pale green eyes opened wider, studying his weary blue ones. He was just as tired as she was, if not more so.

"You should sleep too," she observed.

"I will, later."

He moved to stand, but she reached out, grabbing his wrist. "You're not going to be of any use to anyone if you don't rest, Kurt. Least of all me," she added when he opened his mouth to protest. It wasn't fair to play on his fear like that, but she knew that would get him.

"Fine, I'll take the couch in the living room, be back to check on you later," he said, trying to escape the stifling moment.

Jane glared at him. "Seriously? I know you'll end up working. Besides we're both adults. And you can set an alarm and check on me easier this way. Just…stay."

 _Let's just add more terrible decisions to the ever-growing pile._

Kurt gently pulled away from her grasp, a million decisions and their outcomes crossing his face. Her heart skipped a beat when she felt the mattress dip. He sat against the headboard, grabbing a book off his nightstand and opening it to an earmarked page.

Jane smiled to herself, closing her eyes once more.

Progress was progress, no matter how small.

XOX

Jane was the first to wake. The sun was low in the sky, just beginning to set. She tried to stretch, but realized she was trapped. Kurt's arm was draped around her shoulders, holding her firmly against his side. The book he was reading lay flat on his chest, its pages bent.

As much as she didn't want to wake him, her mouth was as dry as a desert and she was starving. Glancing at the watch on his left wrist, she was able to make out that it was four in the afternoon.

She looked up, studying his features. They were inches apart like this, and she took a moment to analyze how peaceful he could look when he wasn't worrying about her. "Kurt," she said, shaking his shoulder as he had done to her earlier. "Hey, Kurt."

"What?" Kurt asked blearily, absently pulling her closer.

"I'm really hungry," she said, just as her stomach growled loudly.

"Mmhm…" Kurt answered. Jane rolled her eyes.

"And you think I'm difficult," she muttered under her breath. "Kurt, please, wake up."

He opened his eyes in confusion, leaning back when he realized how close they were. Concern flooded his features instantly. He pulled his arm away, cupping her face. "Jane, what's wrong? You okay?"

"I'm fine…I'm just hungry. It's four in the afternoon," she answered him with a small smile, placing her hand on his chest in an attempt to calm him down, the other over the one that was splayed on her cheek.

Kurt drew back, shifting away from her like he'd been burned. "What did you want? We could always order in," he suggested, fixing his shirt as he stood, once again pretending nothing had happened. He watched as disappointment settled into her expression. She didn't even try to hide it.

Jane shrugged. "You pick, I'll eat whatever."

For a moment it looked as if he would say something else, but thought better of it, leaving her alone in his room once more. She ran a hand through her hair, sighing in frustration as she flopped back against the pillows.

 _Why was he so scared? Better yet, why was he so afraid of her?_

Jane threw the covers back, emerging from his room.

"I ordered Chinese, hope that's okay," Kurt said, laying his phone on the table. She nodded.

"That's fine," she swallowed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why are you so afraid of me, Kurt?" Jane asked, voicing the question that plagued her.

Kurt held her gaze a beat too long. He moved to say something when a knock came at the door. "I'll get that," he said.

"Doubt that's Chinese," Jane said under her breath, leaning against the counter.

They had awkward down to an art form.

Kurt opened the door, his bright-eyed sister on the opposite side. "Sarah, what—"

"I was in the neighborhood and figured I'd give you back your key," Sarah said holding the aforementioned key out to him. He took it, anxious for her to leave.

"You didn't have to, I have another set. But thanks, I'll see you later," Kurt gave her a small grin, already closing the door.

"Hey, you're seriously not going to invite your sister in? One of the few times Sawyer's at his friends house, and you're trying to get rid of me," She narrowed her eyes, grasping the door. "And why do I smell wet paint? I knew you didn't like the color I chose for the living room," Sarah eyed him suspiciously, pushing past him into his apartment.

Jane standing at the counter in very short shorts and a tight tank top probably wasn't going to help him. Even less so, given her disheveled, half awake appearance, matching his own unkempt one.

Sarah froze for a moment, looking from their half naked childhood friend back to her brother with a dawning realization. " _Oh_ …I see…"

"Sarah, it's not—"

She turned back to him, a large, sly smile making its way across her face. "It's okay, didn't mean to interrupt. You… _enjoy_ …we'll be talking later," she patted him on the chest before heading for the door, cheekily calling out, "Bye, Taylor."

Sarah was the only person they couldn't convince to call her Jane. At this point, Jane had long given up correcting Kurt's sister.

"Bye," Jane repeated weakly, rapidly turning pink. Kurt massaged his forehead.

"That's gonna be a fun conversation," he said to himself.

Jane tried not to sound accusing. "I thought you would have told her."

"She's my sister, I don't tell her everything," he sighed. "Besides, I figured she would have told me it was a bad idea, talked me out of it."

"It is…a bad idea. This whole thing. We can sit here and eat pancakes and pretend we're normal people all day Kurt, but we're not. We can pretend we're reliving some childhood fantasy of our life together before it all went bad but we can't." She looked away, unable to meet his sad blue eyes. "We can pretend there's not something between us…but we're really just lying to ourselves," Jane said, the last of it coming out as nothing more than a whisper.

She shot him a withering look, practically escaping to her room. It took every nerve, muscle, and impulse in his body not to go after her.

She hadn't even been at his place two full weeks and they were already at DEFCON one. He didn't know how to fix this. Or if it needed fixing. Clearly he wasn't good at hiding his interest in her. Then again, neither was she. His hand on her heart and her eyes flickering down to his lips took his dreams hostage, replaying that scene so long ago now like a broken record. Except his dreams finished it. In his dreams he didn't walk away like a coward. And they'd barely known each other then.

Kurt swallowed hard. She was right. They were lying to themselves. And this—her living with him—had possibly been the worst idea he'd ever had. It ranked somewhere above jumping off the roof of the garage at six-years old in a bat costume because he thought he could fly, and yet, oddly enough, below swimming with sharks.

He contemplated his options. Admit defeat and let her leave, making things very awkward at work. _Not that they already weren't._ Or he could admit the truth, and things would still be awkward, but at least she'd know.

In the end, he penned a quick note to Jane and left for the gym. He had a lot of tension and frustration to work off. Better at the gym than around Jane.

XOX

After her enlightening outburst, Kurt threw himself into work. They narrowly avoided each other over the course of the next several days, both on the job and at home. Kurt spent an increasing amount of time at the gym or at work, letting her detail drop her off at their apartment. Neither acknowledged the renewed tension that surrounded them, even as Zapata threw them odd looks and Reade simply shook his head in exasperation. Mayfair eyed Kurt darkly, concerned about her asset enough to pull him aside twice. "Fix it, whatever it is," she'd said pointedly.

As if it were that easy.

The silence that befell the apartment was driving Jane crazy. It was the fourth night in a row he'd come home late enough to make her worry. This night, she'd stayed up, watching the minutes tick by on the clock and waiting on the couch for the door to open.

"You can't just ignore me, we live together," she finally huffed when he closed the door behind him.

"Jesus," he said, startled by her voice as he tossed his keys on the counter. "Not ignoring you, Jane," he replied, knowing it was an outright lie. "I've been…busy."

Sarah's assumption was embarrassing, but certainly not unwarranted. Everyone seemed to have an opinion on them as it was. Reade knew they were close and even so, had finally come around to her being apart of the team. Zapata didn't directly comment but wasn't outwardly bothered by their history, Patterson didn't seem ruffled by their living arrangement, and Mayfair probably assumed they were already together. Even strangers thought they were a couple.

Jane crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "You're busy? Seriously? That's the worst excuse for avoiding me that you've ever made. Might even be worse than claiming you need to stay objective."

Kurt sighed, placing his hands on his hips. "What do you want to talk about, Jane? I'm pretty sure you're the one that left the conversation to begin with."

"Not that you would have finished it!" Jane shot back. "Anytime I try to talk to you, you shut me out! You refuse to give me a straight answer to any of my questions. Instead you talk in circles and push me further away!"

Kurt sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I just…don't want to talk about this now, Jane. Can't we just table this conversation for another day?"

"Fine, when exactly would you like to finish this conversation? Clearly I'll need to plan my schedule around it," Jane replied, sarcastically.

"When you're not being an obnoxious child!" Kurt yelled. "This is why I shut you out! You just can't leave well enough alone, Jane! You push and prod obsessively and think you know everything about me when truth is, you don't know anything at all!"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Her face fell, bewildered by his assessment but not surprised.

"That last part, that's not my fault," she whispered as a gentle knock sounded at the door. It took him a moment to realize she had her coat on, and a bag sat at her feet.

"Jane, I'm—"

She held her hand up as she grabbed her bag and walked forward, stopping just shy of him. Her eyes met his steadily. "It's fine. I'm staying with Patterson, at least for tonight. I already let my detail know." Jane added with a creeping distance in her voice, a sorrowful look on her face.

Even as his heart screamed at him to stop her, he let her go. Watched her walk away from him for the first time since they'd met.

"You're an idiot," he said aloud, berating himself.

XOX

Jane stared out the window of the cab as Patterson gave directions to her apartment.

"Why are you so…cloudy?" The blonde analyst asked curiously.

Jane smiled, small and hollow. "Nothing, really."

"Yeah, sure, the tension rolling off you and Kurt for the last week hasn't been noticeable _at all_ ," Patterson said with a roll of her eyes.

Jane shook her head, a real smile slowly breaking through. "Sarah, his sister, she came by, last week, and assumed…things. I kind of pointed out how bad of an idea it was, living with him, and it didn't exactly go over well. We're kind of…fighting…I think. Our talk before you showed up kinda drove it home."

Patterson nodded. "Sounds like what you need is a girl's night. I'll call Zapata, she can meet us at my place."

"What? No, no, she doesn't know about this whole thing," Jane pleaded.

"So? We don't mention it. It's not like I'm the only one who noticed you two have been weird around each other, you know," Patterson said, not putting the phone down. "Hey Tash, meet me at my place…yeah…okay…"

Jane zoned out, replaying his words. He knew everything about her. She, on the other hand, knew very little about her childhood friend. What was he so afraid she'd learn?

Patterson nudged her when they arrived.

Zapata was waiting for them on the steps, a few dry cleaning bags draped over her arm. "Let's get this party started!"

"Party?" Jane questioned.

Zapata clapped a hand on her shoulder as they made their way into Patterson's apartment. "It's an expression. But seriously, we're going out tonight. You've experienced the New York bar scene, not the New York club scene."

"I don't know…"

"C'mon, three very attractive single ladies—"

Patterson cleared her throat loudly.

"Fine, two, but things change. It'll be fun. You _need_ fun," Zapata assessed, looking over Jane's weary stance as she dropped her duffle bag on a stool in Patterson's kitchen. "How's living with the control freak going, anyway? Not well, I'm guessing?"

Jane shot Patterson a dark look. "You told her?"

Patterson held her arms up defensively. "No I didn't!"

Zapata snorted as Patterson passed her a beer. "Oh, please. You guys arrive together, you leave together, you haven't brought up how dismal and lonely the safe house is, I haven't seen your detail in weeks," she ticked off her fingers. "And you smell the same."

"That's what I said!" Patterson burst out excitedly. Jane sighed.

"That's it, I'm buying my own detergent," Jane mumbled, picking at a piece of lint on her sleeve.

"Here," Zapata said, picking out one of the dry cleaning bags she'd come in with. "Go put this on."

"What is it?" Jane asked, trying to push the plastic out of the way to see the contents.

"It's a dress, to go out in. You're about the size I was like, five years ago. Never got a chance to wear it, it'll probably look better on you anyway."

Jane looked between Patterson and Zapata. "Why do I need a dress?"

"Because you can't go clubbing wearing…that," Patterson pointed to her white tank top, dark jeans, and sweat jacket—coat discarded on the couch.

"What she means is you can't go out looking like the Hanes spokesperson."

"Why does everyone keep making fun of my clothes?" Jane threw her hands up in exasperation, flushing. "Kurt told me I look like a poor college kid…and something about slam poetry, whatever that is."

Zapata and Patterson laughed, and after a moment, even Jane joined in. It was contagious.

"So I've been trying to get you to let us take you shopping for months, and all it takes is Weller telling you that you look like a misunderstood punk kid to help you see that? Should've moved in with him sooner. Go…put the dress on."

Zapata handed Patterson one of the bags, and kept the other for herself, each peeling off to go change.

Jane held the hanger, pushing the plastic over the top, along with the paper stating the dry cleaner's name.

"Wow," she breathed, eyebrows raised.

The dress was beautiful, if rather short. It was a bandage dress—a term she'd heard Patterson use in reference to a body-hugging dress in a store window over coffee a few weeks back. It was black, with thick straps that dipped into a V neckline. There were triangular cut outs on either side, revealing small patches of skin just below the bust. She slipped it on, marveling for a moment what a difference a piece of clothing made.

Maybe she'd take them up on their shopping offer after all.

"Jane, you ready," Patterson called out as music filtered through the apartment. Jane didn't recognize it, but it was something upbeat and definitively girly.

"Yeah," she called back, emerging from the room. She smoothed the dress down nervously. "I just need someone to zip it up."

Zapata obliged, securing the zipper.

"See, this is why I can't have pretty friends! They all look better than me," Patterson lamented, eyeing Jane enviously. Her own deep blue dress made her eyes pop perfectly, though Jane doubted that compliment would help.

Zapata shot Patterson an odd look, propping her hands on her hips. "You're in a relationship, you're already two steps ahead of both of us. Well, me, anyway. Jane's at least living with a guy."

"I guess that's true," Patterson smiled. "You look awesome, Jane. These are for you," she added, setting a pair of stacked nude heels in front of her.

"Are you guys sure about this? What about my tattoos?" Jane asked, slipping the heels on carefully. She felt naked in an entirely different way in the small dress.

"Check it out, they even trained her to walk in heels. Who are these people?" Zapata observed, gently guiding her towards the full-length mirror. "It's the New York club scene…no ones going to bat an eye. In fact, you'll probably blend in better than us."

"She's got a point. Besides, I highly doubt they're even going to notice what you're wearing, let alone how many tattoos you have," Patterson threw in, pulling out her makeup case.

Zapata pulled up a chair, gesturing for Jane to sit. She did her best to pull the dress down to cover her thighs.

"This is…really short. And I'm pretty sure someone's going to have to help me get out of this dress after tonight," Jane commented as Patterson handed Zapata an eye shadow palette and a brush.

With a smirk, Zapata began blending colors together. "That, Jane, is the point."

It took Jane a moment to realize what she meant. "Oh."

"I'm gonna grab us more beer," Patterson said, flitting off to the refrigerator.

"So, what's going on with you and Weller, anyway?" Zapata asked, genuinely curious. Jane tensed. "Remember when I said you were a lot of things, but normal wasn't one of them? Well, you're also not very subtle."

"We're just friends," Jane answered, a bit defensively.

Zapata sighed. "But you want more than that. You're just not sure if he does. Otherwise, we wouldn't be sitting here. Am I right?"

She set the palette down, picking up a kohl black pencil, tilting Jane's face. Jane swallowed hard, not sure how much she should reveal about herself.

"I think I'm jealous," Zapata said softly, after a beat of silence.

"Of me? Of what—my lack of memory, the unorthodox tattoo puzzle on my body, for starters?" Jane asked, a darkness coating her voice.

"Of the way he looks at you," she answered, lowering the pencil. Jane opened her eyes, meeting Zapata's honest gaze. "I'd give anything for a guy to look at me like that. Like I'm the only thing that matters. You're luckier than you think, Jane."

Jane didn't have a response for that, and was happy when Patterson returned with the three beers. Zapata went back to painting Jane's face, and the conversation turned to lighter topics.

"Check it out," Zapata said, nodding to the mirror behind her as she finished filling Jane's lips in with a deep brick red color.

Jane took in her features, gloriously accentuated by Zapata's skilled hand. She'd never be able to replicate it, but it was stunning. Her green eyes were magnified by shades of shimmering bronze, and her cheekbones had been sculpted in a way she couldn't imagine. She liked the lipstick the best, and after she made the comment, Patterson told her to keep it. Like the dress, apparently it looked better on her.

"Come on, Snow White, Cinderella, let's go," Zapata smiled, nodding to the door.

"What Disney Princess are you supposed to be?" Patterson asked, grabbing a small purse while Jane pulled on her coat.

Zapata glanced down at her gold dress. "Belle, obviously."

When Jane, very confused, asked them what they were talking about, Zapata and Patterson shared a look, immediately launching into a long-winded speech on talking cartoon mice and singing animals as they slid into the cab.

Apparently she was farther behind on pop culture than she thought.

XOX

Clubs were loud. Ridiculously so. Jane resisted planting her hands over her ears at the obnoxious clashing beats. The music wasn't her taste—it was something electronic, almost futuristic sounding with its clangs and sharp bells.

Right now, she'd prefer fighting with Kurt to the atrocious sounds coming from the club speakers. It would be far less grating.

Patterson and Zapata were at the bar, grabbing drinks. At least, Patterson was. Zapata seemed perfectly comfortable with the attention she was receiving from an attractive, dark haired man standing next to her. Jane waited, sitting at one of the high tables that surrounded the dance floor, distracted by the flickering neon lights and the bodies surging.

Patterson returned, setting a fruity looking drink in front of Jane. They still hadn't found her drink, even after all these months. Jane continued to let them order for her whenever they went out, hoping one would stick eventually. "Sex On The Beach," Patterson yelled over the horrific noise.

Jane laughed at the absurd name, taking a sip before making a disgusted face. "Ugh, definitely not this," she called back, but continued to drink it. "Tastes like melted gummi bears!"

"Oh, they have that too!" Patterson yelled, misunderstanding her.

Jane shook her head, but Patterson was trying to wave Tasha over, away from the bar. She took another sip of the sugary, biting cocktail—it made her tongue itch, if that was even possible.

Jane was startled when hands wound around her waist.

"Wanna dance?" the man asked, pulling her off the chair with an alarming amount of strength for someone so intoxicated. Jane leaned away, assaulted by the liquor on his breath.

"No, not really," she shouted, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him back. His hands traveled down, low on her back. Jane could feel her fight instincts kicking in.

"Aww come on, just one? You need to relax!" he slurred.

Patterson was watching the exchange, clearly debating whether she should interfere or let Jane handle the situation. She wasn't quite sure which would be worse. The aggressive tick in Jane's jaw set her in motion.

"We were just going to dance," Patterson said instead, moving off her chair, grabbing Jane by the waist and shuffling them away from the man. Jane looked back; the man seemed stunned, and a bit put out. "Figured this was a better idea than you karate-chopping him or something!" She added, making a slashing motion with her hands.

"Probably!" Jane laughed, knowing she would have done exactly that if he'd gotten any handsy-er.

Patterson studied Jane's expression as they half-heartedly moved to the music. "You don't actually want to be here, do you," she said knowingly.

Jane shrugged. "I like hanging out with you and Tasha."

"I know, we're awesome. But we're not who you want to be with right now," Patterson surmounted.

"No, not really."

"You should go, then. We'll be fine without you. Tasha's got her hooks in a hottie at the bar, she won't even notice. And you shouldn't waste that dress," she added with a wink. "C'mon, I'll walk you out."

Jane got her jacket from the coat check, pulling her cell phone out of the pocket. "I'll see you at work, or shopping, whatever comes first," she said once they were outside, waiting for a cab.

"We are going to hold you to that. Just…talk to him. Whatever is going on between you two, it'll figure itself out."

Jane tilted her head. "How can you always be this upbeat?"

Patterson shrugged. "I don't know. Just my nature, I guess. Plus I'm rooting for you guys. You deserve to be happy, after everything you've been through."

Jane pulled Patterson in for a quick hug. "Thank you, for this. I needed it."

"No problem. Don't forget to touch up your lipstick. And have fun," Patterson said suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows. Jane rolled her eyes as the blonde headed back inside.

Jane looked down at her cell phone, contemplating calling him to let him know she was coming home. Scrolling through the list of phone numbers he'd input for her when she'd initially received the phone, her thumb hovered over the keypad, an idea hitting her. She scrolled again and pressed the send button, waiting for the receiver to pick up the call.

"Hi."

XOX

"Hey, I'm glad you called," Sarah greeted her warmly, inviting her in.

"Thanks, for letting me come by. Sorry it's so late, I just…wanted to talk," Jane replied.

Sarah shook her head dismissively. "Sawyer's at a friends house for a sleepover so I have the night to myself, and since those are rare, I've pretty much been watching bad TV and drinking wine. You look amazing, by the way. Party?"

Jane grinned, relieved she wasn't putting Sarah out. "Thanks, kind of a girls night gone awry. I don't think I'm a club person."

"Can't say I blame you. I don't even understand half of what they play on the radio anymore. God knows what they play in clubs."

"You're not missing anything. It's pretty bad," Jane answered. Sarah ushered her to the couch, a second wineglass ready and waiting.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Sarah asked, pouring the deep red merlot into Jane's glass before topping her own off.

"Um, Kurt," Jane admitted bluntly.

"I kinda had that part figured out," Sarah smirked, laughing lightly.

"Sarah, we're not…he and I, we're not, uh…" she tried clumsily to form the words, finding herself taking a large gulp of her wine. It was far better than the garish fruit drink Patterson had purchased her.

"Sleeping together? Yeah, I know."

Jane raised her eyebrow, baffled by her remark. "What? But—"

Sarah put a hand over one of Jane's, squeezing it.

"Look, I love giving my brother a hard time. I'm his little sister, it's what I do. But I'm guessing my assumption had some…adverse reactions? Especially if you're here, sitting on my couch."

Jane shrugged. "Maybe a few. I thought you knew, and when he said he hadn't told you because he was afraid you would think it was a bad idea, I pretty much told him it was. We've been fighting about it ever since," she said.

Sarah searched her expression, looking for something. "That's not what you're here to talk about."

Jane gaped for a moment. Sarah was as observant as her brother, maybe more so. "He doesn't get that I'm not _her_ anymore, and maybe I'll never remember who she was. It's like he's waiting for me to become this person. I can't stand looking at him, every day, knowing I disappoint him," she finished softly, saying more than she'd meant to.

Sarah's lip twitched, sympathy in her eyes. "I don't think you disappoint him. This is hard for him, as much as it is for you. Think about it; he's got five years—a small lifetime of memories of the two of you as kids, and you have nothing. It takes a lot of restraint for him not to throw all of that at you at once. Especially when you've taken up such a huge part of his life," Sarah said gently. "That said, there's a lot you don't understand about what happened."

"Well, can you explain it to me? Every time I try to bring it up, he changes the subject. I want to know," said Jane, sounding desperate.

 _Classic Kurt._ Sarah sighed, setting her glass on the table. "It's not entirely my place to say. But I can tell you your disappearance destroyed him. He was so light and fun, and when you vanished he just…shut down. Blamed himself. Became someone else. He'd spend every evening after school in that silly spot by the creek waiting for you to come back. Never gave up. Joined the FBI," she paused, not sure how much more she should reveal. "It was bad…for a long time. I used to think he carried that torch for so long he didn't know how to put it down."

Jane tilted her head, confused. "What are you saying?"

"My brother is a good-looking, thirty-five year old unmarried workaholic who, up until a few weeks ago, was letting his sister and nephew live with him. I'm saying he had…options. But…I don't know. I guess, maybe somewhere, deep down, you were _it_. Even then. You being gone didn't change that."

Jane sat back, digesting the words piece by piece, turning them over in her mind until they formed a vivid picture. She felt like someone had punched her in the stomach, all the wind knocked out of her.

Sarah swirled her wine, gaze distant.

"I used to feel sorry for him, stuck in the past, stuck on that day, stuck on that girl, and I'd wonder why he just couldn't move on. You were five—that's not enough time to know…" she sighed, letting the sentence die on her lips. It seemed like she was still trying to argue a point made long ago, to someone else.

"I get it now. I see it now," she said kindly, as if Jane's presence would finally set her brother free. "I don't put a lot of stock in fate and all that—the whole concept is kind of ludicrous if you ask me but…just…don't hurt him, okay?" Sarah pleaded gently.

Jane nodded numbly. "I won't."

XOX

The cab ride back to their apartment was far too short for her liking.

It was all too much. She understood on a base level why he was so desperate for her to remember, for her to _want_ to be Taylor. But all this pretending was wearing her down. And if she was being honest, talking about it was long overdue.

She hovered on the other side of the door, gathering her bearings before heading inside. She expected him to be asleep by now, as it verged on half past midnight, but wasn't surprised to find him awake. Jane hung up her coat, leaving her cell phone and keys on the counter where his lay.

Kurt was on the couch, the TV muted. He held a book in his hands, flipping silently through it. Upon closer inspection she realized it was a photo album.

Kurt felt the couch dip beside him. "Didn't really think you were coming back," he said roughly.

"I just…had to get out. Get some perspective," she replied carefully. "What are you looking at?"

"Here, see for yourself." Kurt tilted the heavy book towards her, finally looking at her. He faltered for a moment, taking her appearance in. She heard his sharp intake of breath, and her cheeks flamed as his eyes roved over her. "Wow…you look…beautiful, Jane. Did I miss something?"

She shrugged, meeting his awed gaze. "Girl's night…I left early. Turns out I'm not a fan of being groped by strangers at clubs. And the music is terrible."

"Yeah, sure," Kurt responded, unconvinced. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather be out with Patterson and Zapata. Kind of a shame, wasting an outfit like that."

"Well I'm with you, that's not really a waste, is it?"

He quirked a small smile. "Definitely not, Jane."

She smiled widely, kicking off her heels and pulling the album he'd offered onto her lap.

Jane flipped the album back to the beginning. She studied each photo with care, running her fingertips over the glossy plastic pages. "You were like, a foot taller than me," she laughed.

"Yeah, well, you were five years younger than me," he pointed out.

"True." She devoured the pictures, anxiously turning the pages to reveal more of her lost childhood. Birthdays, holidays, school photos…they were all there. And the two of them, they were always together. Every life event, from a photo of him holding her as a baby, no more than a week old, to holding her hand as they boarded a big yellow school bus was carefully filed away.

The mood shifted when she came to the end of the book.

The picture wasn't remarkable or even different from all the others, but she knew what it signified. She felt compelled to pull the photo from its protective sleeve, studying it more closely.

"That's the last picture ever taken of you."

"Of us," Jane countered. She traced the outline of the smiling boy and the beaming girl, their arms wrapped around each other in front of a tree. Like nothing in the world could ever tear them apart.

Her forehead creased as the question came unbidden. "What do you think would have happened, if I hadn't gone missing?"

Kurt shrugged a shoulder half-heartedly. "We'll never know, Jane."

"That's not what I asked," she pointed out, feeling guilty for bringing it up. "I want to know what _you_ think would have happened. You had to have thought about it."

"I do, every day, Jane. I relive every moment up to that day, wondering where it went wrong. What I could have done differently."

"So tell me…tell me what happens if I don't disappear," Jane requested, needing to know.

"If you don't disappear, Jane…" Kurt starts, looking at her with a longing she can't ignore, the kind she feels equally, without any prior context. "We grow up together. You're like another sister, for a while. But we get older, and I start to see you differently—not the tagalong kid who wants to climb trees and ride bikes with the boys, but a girl who's interested in going to the movies and wants to be the homecoming queen, even if she claims she hates the whole concept. I would've taken you to prom, even though you'd probably have been the youngest one there," he laughs at that, but she knows it's the truth. He continued, his voice growing softer, more wistful. Like he'd thought this through a thousand different times and always came to the same conclusion.

"College would have been hard, leaving you behind, on your own. But I'd still visit, every chance I got. I'd get you elaborate Christmas presents as an apology for being gone so long, and make sure your room was decked out with whatever memorabilia my school had. I wouldn't have joined the FBI—would have been a teacher or a mechanic—something that brought me home to you every night. No guns or bombs or terrorist cells to worry about," his sad eyes met hers; she didn't know she was crying until he brushed one of her stray tears away with his thumb.

"I would have asked you…" he began, as if trying to decide if he should say the words that danced on the tip of his tongue. "I would have married you, Taylor."

He said it so tragically the weight of it broke her heart.

The musings of a life unlived.

Every punch and kick, every black eye, broken tooth, and bullet wound she'd sustained since meeting him, and probably before that, were nothing compared to this.

She swallowed thickly. "Is that what you're so afraid of, Kurt?" she asked, voice trembling. "This life we didn't get to have?"

He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. "No, Jane. I'm scared of the life we _can_ have, now. You asked me why I was afraid of you. Truth is, I never thought I'd get to see you again, after you disappeared. And here you are, twenty-five years later, and all I've thought about since you came back into my life is that…future."

"I still don't understand why you're afraid of getting close to me."

Kurt looked away, rubbing his neck. "I know how I feel, about you. Maybe…how I've always felt. I know what I want. It's not objective in the least. But you…you get to decide where this goes. I'll just be your friend, if that's what you want. But…I want more," he finished quietly. "I'm afraid of your answer, Jane."

Despite herself, she didn't have an answer for him, not yet. Her mind was playing catch up, processing every bit of information that was hurled at her in the course of a day. Instead, she curled her hand in his, intertwining their fingers as she leaned her head down to rest on his shoulder.

He held her for a long time, stroking her hair. She was half asleep when a water droplet hit her cheek, trailing the path her own tears took. A second one followed after it moments later. His heartbeat raced beneath her ear, uneven and out of sync.

She felt him breathe deeply, steadying himself. Assuming Jane was asleep, he gently lifted her, carrying her into her bedroom. Kurt laid her down, pulling the covers up over her.

Realizing she still held the photo of the two of them, he slid the picture out of her hand, staring down at it. So much time had passed, between then and now.

That unlived future would haunt him for eternity. What-if's and what-could-have-been's had kept him awake at night for the last twenty-five years. He'd wished and hoped and waited…and someone had finally answered. Despite how she'd been returned to him, a small part of him was grateful to _them_.

She would never stop being the absolute center of his world.

Kurt glanced once more at the photo before setting it on her nightstand. "Night…Jane," he whispered into the darkness.

The door clicked softly shut.

Jane opened her eyes, heart heavy and throat tight. She tried to swallow the knot, but that only served to bring the tears back full force. Blindly, she searched for the picture with her fingertips until they caught the photo's edge, pulling it to her chest.

It was a beautiful life he'd painted for her. For them. Knowing the kind of man he was, she was certain the life he described would have come to be if she'd been left to live it.

If his portrait of these events rang true, they'd most certainly have been married by now. Maybe they would have a child on the way, a house in the suburbs and a dog in the backyard with blue-collar jobs they told stories about over dinner.

Yes, it was a beautiful life.

No matter how terribly impossible it was.

Hours passed, and she knew sleep would not come. And if she couldn't sleep, neither could he. Not after a confession like that.

Jane hesitated, every possible scenario running through her head. Rejection being the most prevalent. He'd already pushed her away once, that night months ago in the safe house. A bitter memory they didn't talk about. But…this was different. He'd taken that step this time.

She chewed her lip. The nagging notion that she actually needed his help to get out of the bondage-like dress Zapata had given her hadn't escaped her mind.

 _Now or never._

She raised her fist, closing her eyes in anticipation as her knuckles rapped lightly on the solid barrier. Jane could hear the blood rushing in her ears in the still silence of the apartment, unnerving.

The knob turned and the door opened. At least she hadn't woken him. If his sleepless expression was any indication, he'd spent the last few hours the same way she had.

"Jane…?"

The threshold was all that separated them. It held a fraught significance; he didn't invite her in and she didn't ask. They hovered inbetween, unsure, as they always did.

"Did you...need something?" he whispered the question.

She should have thought this through. She licked her lips, wishing the words would just appear from the sky. "I…I need your help. With my dress," she finally managed to say, turning her back to him. It was a pathetic excuse, but it was an excuse all the same.

"Yeah, sure," he replied, grasping the zipper that rest between her shoulder blades. He pulled the zipper slowly, revealing his name. It still stunned him every time he saw it, like a brand she'd never be rid of. Kurt absently placed his hand over tattoo, feeling Jane tense beneath it. "Sorry."

"For what?" she asked quietly, glancing at him over her shoulder.

"Pushing you away. I never wanted to hurt you," he answered, pulling the zipper down further as he removed his hand. She missed the warmth instantly. "That should be good."

Jane turned to face him, loosely holding the dress in place. A simple _thank you_ would have sufficed, she knew that. There'd been enough emotional baggage laid bare. But the words never came. At least, not the ones she intended.

Her bright green eyes sought his, heart in her throat.

"I would have said yes."

Her words sunk in, answering a question he'd never asked her.

"You can't say that, Jane. You don't know that," he said, feeling winded.

She smiled, tilting her head. "Yes, I do. If we could've had that life…" she trailed off, reaching for his hand. "I know we'll never get those years back, and maybe I'll never remember the ones we did have as kids, but this—right now—this I know for sure. I want this, just as much as you."

He cupped her cheek with his free hand, and she stepped across the threshold, into his space.

"That's my answer," she whispered.

"It's a good answer," he said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his hand moving around to the back of head, bringing her forward.

It was electrifying, that moment their lips met.

He kissed her chastely, at first. She pulled back, meeting his clouded gaze with her own darkened stare.

"Don't start something you can't finish," Jane smirked.

He shook his head, laughing lightly. "You never cease to amaze me, Jane."

She felt the mood shift again when he leveled her with his piercing blue eyes. The air charged, taking hold of them. The kiss was deeper this time, heated and passionate as his mouth viciously claimed hers. Kurt's hands trailed down her shoulders, sending sparks across her painted skin. She moaned in protest when he broke their kiss, instead following the path of the bird on her neck with his lips.

He moved them further into the dark room. When he pulled away again, she shot him an irritated look, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to stop him. He covered her small hands with his large ones, resting his forehead to hers.

"Sure you wanna cross this line?" he asked a final time. He released her hands, and now his wandered down the exposed skin of her back, toying with the thick straps of the dress he helped unzip not moments ago. Jane stepped forward, rising on tiptoes and kissing him soundly, before dropping her arms and allowing him to pull the dress from her slim figure.

She snaked her hands up under his shirt, tracing the broad planes of his chest before tugging the thin fabric over his head—the shirt joining her dress on the floor. Kurt wound an arm around her waist, mesmerized by the feel of her skin as he pulled her in close. She let her palm rest over his heart, feeling the constant beat under it. He clasped her hand, kissing her fingers before she dragged his lips back to hers. The backs of her knees hit the bed, and he gently lowered them down.

Nothing else was said that night. At least, not with words.

XOX

Kurt awoke later in the morning, the comfortable weight of the woman in his arms grounding him. He was suddenly grateful it was Saturday. His thumb traced lazy circles on her shoulder, kissing the top of her head.

He wasn't quite sure he deserved this. Fate hadn't been kind to Kurt Weller the last twenty-five years, not until five months ago when his best friend returned, gift wrapped and mailed directly to him. Whether it was a cosmic joke or a just a happy circumstance, he'd take it if it meant waking up with her everyday.

Jane stirred, afraid to open her eyes. "Hi," she whispered shyly when his gaze fell to hers. "Looked like you were deep in thought."

He smiled, playing with a lock of her hair. "Just thinking…about us."

"Good…or bad?" Jane asked, worry shrouding her features.

"Good, Jane. Don't worry so much," Kurt said, poking her in the side. "So…what do you want to do today?"

Jane scrunched her nose, propping herself up. "I think I agreed to go shopping with Patterson and Tasha. For me," she added.

"You _definitely_ don't need clothes, Jane," Kurt argued, his tone coy.

"I distinctly remember you saying I looked like a poor indie band singer, and Tasha says I look like the Hanes spokesperson—I don't even know what that is."

Kurt laughed loudly, and Jane fought the urge to tell him how nice the sound was. "Zapata's fired," he replied, trying to suppress his laughter.

Jane shook her head, biting her lip. "You could convince me to stay," she said slowly, her voice pitching low. "You do owe me a night out, after all."

Kurt heard the challenge in her tone. She was pressed into the pillows before she could blink. He rest on his elbows, hovering over her. For a long moment he simply stared at her, memorizing the lines of her face.

She could see the words he wanted to say in the depths of his blue eyes, the ones he held back. It was too soon.

"I know," Jane said simply.

His lips claimed hers, ending the discussion.

XOX

"Have you seen Weller?" Jane asked, several days later in the locker room.

Zapata shook her head, as did Reade. "Not recently," he said. "But I think he had to talk to Mayfair about something."

"Oh, thanks," Jane nodded, leaning against her locker.

"It might take awhile, I can give you a ride home if you want. I drive past Weller's place," Reade said casually, pulling his coat from his own locker.

Jane froze. "What?"

"I can give you a ride," he said, a bit slower this time. At her odd look, he understood why she was confused. "You didn't know I knew. Please, like it ain't obvious. Ya'll smell the same—at least use a different detergent if you're trying to be sneaky."

Jane gaped, utterly bewildered. She turned and left without another word, passing Zapata, who'd stuck her head in her locker, desperately trying to quell her snorting laughter.

Reade shrugged, closing his locker.

"Was it something I said?"

XOX

The man watched from the shadows, quietly observing as the couple left the building, hand in hand.

Everything was unfolding, just as it should.


End file.
